Stories Untold
by solveariddle
Summary: Here are some scenes that could have happened during the show, starting with 1x12 Blinded and the question that always bugged me why Alec wasn't at the hospital after Gillian had been attacked. The scenes will be a mix of angst, humor, drama - whatever my muse comes up with. Enjoy!
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: I was clearing out my hard drive and found some half-written stories that I hope will make for a good mix. The idea is to have one additional scene per season one-three that could have happened on the show (hence the title)** **and perhaps continue with more scenes/seasons after that if my muse lets me. Don't expect extraordinary** **plot lines. I'm just stretching my fingers here so that I don't forget how to write but hope that you will enjoy it even so.**

 **Disclaimer: I own nothing regarding LTM. This is just for fun.**

* * *

 **1x12 Blinded**

The first thing Cal notices when he approaches the treatment room is how fragile Gillian looks. She hasn't seen him yet, is just sitting there in a hospital gown, battered and bruised, staring vacantly into space. The second thing he notices is that her husband is not there. For whatever reason. And not that he minds. It's no secret that he and Alec don't get along. For whatever reason as well. Howsoever, he would have expected the hospital or Gillian to have called him. Perhaps the wanker was indispensable due to his oh-so-important job. Cal watches Gillian some more through the pane. She wears a sling on one of her arms. Even if they prevented the kidnapping, her attacker did a good job during the few minutes he hauled her over the pavement. From what he knows so far, her shoulder had to be reset; she has to be in pain. Cal can't imagine one plausible reason as to why Alec wouldn't be here with his wife. She could be dead, blinded, raped, like the other victims. Cal pushes the horrible images to the back of his mind, reminding himself that none of this happened. She's alive. He opens the door and walks into the treatment room.

"You look good in black and blue," he greets Gillian.

Her smile is forced, but through the shock and pain Cal sees relief that he is there.

"We're quite a pair," she matches the casual tone of his voice.

Over the course of the case, Cal has received some injuries, too. Nevertheless, this is what they do, who they are. The familiar banter grounds them and helps them get through difficult situations.

Neither of them mentions Alec's absence. Not when Cal apologizes to Gillian for dragging her into this mess. Not when the doctor comes in and discharges her on condition of someone watching over her during the next 24 hours. Not when Cal drives her home after a nurse helped her to get dressed.

When Cal pulls up in front of her house, Gillian remains seated.

"The long con," she says without looking at him. "That's what you were going for, right?"

She overheard him talking to Torres on the phone when they were at the hospital, his voice giving away that he successfully manipulated her. Ria didn't notice. She is a natural when it comes to reading faces but still has a lot to learn regarding voice analysis.

The long-con. Yes, he'd had a plan right from the start. A plan that almost cost her life. Cal feels the guilt physically, a burning in his chest that won't go away ever since he saw her being hauled over the pavement, kicking and screaming.

"Yes," Cal admits. He is glad that she doesn't look at him since he can't bring himself to look at her either. "But the part where you get hurt was never supposed to happen."

Gillian nods. He perceives the movement from the corner of his eye. She knows; he already told her at the hospital. _I'm sorry, luv. Not worth it._ She knows and understands. He can't blame her, though, for being tired of the men in her life making momentous decisions. Drugs. Dangerous mind games. More often than not, it's her who gets hurt in the end.

Cal only realizes that Gillian is trying to get out of the car when he hears a clicking because she has trouble opening the door. It's her right arm that's in the sling. She shouldn't move it at all.

"Wait, let me do this." He gets out of the car and quickly walks over to the passenger side to help her.

"It's okay, Cal. Get back in the car. I can do this." Gillian's voice is surprisingly steady considering the amount of pain killers they gave her at the hospital. Her body language betrays her though. Even if she somehow managed to get out of the car without his help, she stumbles the moment she tries to walk inside on her own.

Cal puts his arm around Gillian to steady her, taking great care to not touch her injured shoulder. Through her coat, he feels the limpness of her muscles due to exhaustion and medication but also a determined rigidity underneath. She wants to do this on her own. Save that he can't let her. He glances over at the house. The windows are dark. As far as he can tell, Alec is not there. When she was released on condition that someone would take care of her during the next 24 hours, he thought that her husband would be that someone, that he would be at home, if nothing else. She can't actually believe that he will leave her to herself, can she? They struggle ever so slightly when Gillian unsuccessfully tries to not lean on him and Cal refuses to loosen his gentle grip before they come to a silent understanding.

"OK, you can go back now," Gillian mumbles the moment they have reached the front door.

As if. Cal watches her fiddle with the keys with her left, unharmed hand. Gillian is right-handed. It takes her three attempts until the key fits into the lock. He lets her. The least he can do is let her have the little bit of control over the situation that is left.

The atmosphere of the house confirms Cal's assumption. They are greeted by silence and darkness. There is no one here although it has to be late by now. Where the hell is Alec?

"I can sleep on the couch," Gillian's voice sounds defeated.

She moves toward what Cal supposes must be the couch. He was here just once and can't remember the furnishing. It's dark; she hasn't turned on the light.

Gillian must have hoped that Alec would be here. Anger joins Cal's guilt. Aside from the fact that he doesn't like Alec, it would have been nice if her husband was there for her since her partner let her down already. In his world, the fact that he saved her doesn't diminish his responsibility. He might have prevented that Gillian was harmed even more. Yet, it was his fault that she was harmed at all.

"No, luv, no." Cal tries to pull her away from the couch toward the stairs that he can make out even in the dark. "Injured like that, you have to sleep in your bed. Couch is too uncomfortable."

As he fumbles around for the handrail, his hand touches a light switch at the wall and he turns the light on. It's so bright that he has to squint his eyes. When he opens them, Gillian's face is right in front of him and behind her a living room full of boxes. She doesn't turn around. Just looks at him, her face pale but composed, while he is trying to understand what he sees. Gillian didn't mention that Alec and she were moving somewhere else together. The fact that Alec wasn't at the hospital, isn't here. Her persistence that he should not accompany her inside. It all makes sense now. They are right in the middle of separating and she didn't want him to know as yet or perhaps she simply didn't want him to find out and have to talk about it on this of all days.

Cal reaches out and caresses her cheek. She holds his gaze, the look in her eyes exhausted for more than one reason as he knows now. But there are no tears in her eyes. Gillian is very emotional, tears up easily. He teases her because of it time and again even if it is one of the attributes he loves about her. That there are no tears now tells him that the decision to separate is not recent, at least not on her part. This is not a wound anymore but a scar. She didn't call Alec when they were at the hospital, Cal realizes. Didn't want him there or knew he wouldn't come, knew he wouldn't be here either. All the time after the attack, injured and in shock, she knew she would be going home to an empty house. He doesn't say anything; if Gillian doesn't want to talk, he for sure won't make her. Instead, Cal hugs her and feels her cling to him, taking deep breaths. When he gently pushes her upstairs after a moment, she doesn't put up any resistance.

They don't talk about it afterwards. Not about the boxes and not about the fact that Cal helped her undress and spent the night on her couch before he called a friend of hers the next morning to take over. He had no intention to up the awkwardness of the situation even more by helping her take a shower. Only when he walks in on Gillian crying after a phone call several weeks later, Cal asks her if she's all right, and later that day, she eventually tells him everything.

* * *

To be continued


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N:** Sometimes I wonder if this fandom will exist forever. Really. Whenever I think "nah, you don't have to post something, there won't be anyone around to read it, anyway" you convince me of the contrary. So, thank you for still being here and even more for supporting me with your reviews. That includes the guest reviewers like sandra, ChloeTK and others I couldn't get back to personally.

The idea for this chapter is based on a chat that I had some time ago with my lovely fellow writers **Roadrunnerz** and **whathobertie** and that spun a little out of control, lol. Ever since I wanted to write a story about it. So, I totally give these two credit for inspiring my muse.

In case you're wondering, this chapter refers to an actual scene of the show. Re-watch the first minutes of the episode if you don't believe it and pay attention to what Loker says. ;)

 **The usual disclaimer applies.**

* * *

 **2x2 Truth or Consequences**

The premises of The Lightman Group are empty. No one is here that early except her. Gillian enjoys these precious moments before the insanity of their daily schedule starts. As she is walking down the hallway, she inhales the scent of the coffee she is carrying and thinks about how she may make use of the quiet before the storm today.

 _Clang_

At first she believes that the sound is coming from somewhere outside, but then she hears it again.

 _Clang_

It's coming from inside. She stops and listens.

"Hello?" A voice. Muffled, because the door of the lab is closed. She recognized it in an instant, anyway. "Hello? Is someone there?"

Gillian changes direction and goes to the lab. When she opens the door, she briefly wonders whether she is awake or not. This must be a dream. She blinks but when she opens her eyes again, the scenario in front of her has remained unchanged. She was right about who the voice belongs to.

"Is that...?" Gillian squints her eyes, tilts her head back, points at the subject in question and still can't believe it. "Is that a _monkey_?"

The smell of the animal is strong and unpleasant, eventually convincing her that this is not a dream. Her dreams don't include olfactory sensations.

"A bonobo," he clarifies, his voice coming from below. He is sitting on the floor; his shirt is rumpled. Must have been a rough night. That explains the monkey. Sort of.

 _Clang_

There is the sound again when he moves his arm. It is above his head, slightly twisted at an angle that has to be uncomfortable, at least considering the hours he probably has been sitting here like that as she assumes.

"I thought you were the cleaning service," he clarifies some more. "Hoped to get rid of these before anyone came in. So much for that."

 _Clang_

Metal against metal. His wrist is cuffed to the cage with the monkey inside. Bonobo. Whatever.

"What happened?" Gillian asks. It is the obvious question, isn't it?

He considers lying – she sees it – but then settles for the truth, "I had a date."

 _Of course._ She remembers how excited he was when he told her about his findings concerning the behavior of bonobos during sex a couple of days ago. He must have tripped over his own ego, wanting to make an impression on his date so bad that he overdid it. Why else would the monkey be here? The weirdest things often have the simplest explanation.

"It was a great date until she saw the monkey. Then she just went nuts. Accused me of animal abuse. I never even got to show her the tape of the bonobos."

That was probably a good thing. Gillian shakes her head. He really has no idea what women want.

"What would you have done?" he continues to rant. "If you were so important to a man that he showed you his scientific work on your first date? Wouldn't you be flattered? Wouldn't you...," he stops and turns pale as his eyes focus on a spot right behind her back.

"Oi!"

She didn't hear him coming; the scenario in front of her demanding her undivided attention. But now that Cal is there, Gillian senses him behind her even before she sees him, his erratic moves that are his trademark creating a notably atmosphere around him. The man never stands still.

He walks around her, looks at Loker and then back at her, ignoring the monkey as if it had always been there.

"Having fun, you two?" Cal asks and then, solely addressing Gillian, "Apparently you're over the demise of your marriage." He searches in her face for a sign whether he went too far with this remark. When she lets him see that, albeit she is not happy that he mentioned her divorce, his words didn't actually hurt her, he ups the ante, "Didn't know you liked handcuffs."

A situation like that might have left her speechless a couple of years or even months ago but not anymore. And the _demise_ of her marriage has added another portion of trust in herself. As devastating as it was, she knows now that she can make it on her own. Interestingly enough, Cal's innuendos that sometimes bothered her before have become a reliable source to boost her confidence on a daily basis.

"Look who's in handcuffs, Cal. I like to stay in control."

He didn't expect that. The arousal in his face is sudden and intense before he manages to hide it. She didn't expect such an obvious reaction either. They fall silent, holding each other's gaze.

"Hey, I'm still here," Loker reminds them, rattling the handcuffs what causes the monkey to screech.

Cal looks at the cage with the monkey in it. Loker's disturbance has irritated him and he needs to vent, "Bloody hell, what is that?"

"Don't ask," Gillian stops him quietly but to no avail.

"It's a bonobo," Loker already explains. Not that this would explain anything. "Does no one read the results of my study?"

When neither Cal nor Gillian answer, Loker sighs defeated and keeps quiet. The monkey also calms down.

"Why are you here so early?" Gillian asks Cal. It's a deflection if there ever was one, but one of them needs to say something that leads them away from what just happened between them.

Cal nods consent. _Okay then, luv, let's postpone this._ "Em stays with me this week. Took her to school." Even if he picked up on her deflection, his eyes restlessly wander over her face and body. Gillian feels her body temperature rise as if he was actually touching her. They have to stop this.

"Oh, great!" Loker provides them with another distraction, welcome this time, as he stares at the entrance, his facial expression changing from uncomfortable to deeply embarrassed.

As Cal and Gillian turn around, they see Ria Torres standing there, looking at Loker with a smile that can only be described as very satisfied.

"Hot night gone wrong?" she asks Loker with a fake pity that oozes glee.

Cal looks back and forth between Loker and her. "Are you...?"

"No," Torres and Loker state at the same time, the denial so vehement that it reveals the truth.

Cal and Gillian exchange a glance. These two are a good match. An explosive mixture. Then again, that hasn't stopped other people at The Lightman Group to test the water, so to speak.

"Could someone _please_ uncuff me?" Loker pleads. It must be unnerving to watch the world from the floor. Everyone keeps looking down on him. Literally.

Only now, Gillian sees that there are keys lying on a table nearby.

"Sure." Torres walks over to the table and grabs the keys. Something is odd about the way she acts. Then again, the entire situation is odd.

Ria tries to unlock the handcuffs, but the keys won't fit.

"You've got to be kidding me," Loker mumbles when she gives up.

Gillian catches how Cal bites back a smirk. He has figured something out.

"They don't fit," Torres states the obvious.

"Too bad, eh?" Cal joins in.

"Let me try." Gillian takes the keys away from Torres. She doesn't particularly feel sorry for Loker. His approach of radical honesty at the expense of others often makes it difficult to be around him. Nevertheless, it's three against one here. Well, that, plus her coffee is getting cold and she doesn't like that. At all.

But Ria was right; the keys don't fit.

"Sorry Loker," Gillian says. "Seems as if we have to call the facility manager."

"You might as well call the fucking morning show," Loker growls.

"Hey!" Cal intervenes. "Watch your mouth," he addresses Loker before he turns around to talk to Torres. "And _you_ get the keys that fit. Wherever you hid them. _Now_!"

There is only the slightest hesitation before Ria relents and heads off. So that was the reason why something felt odd. When their date, or whatever it was, went wrong, she decided to take revenge in this way.

Gillian shakes her head in disbelief and leaves the room. So much for the quiet before the storm.

Cal catches up with her. "Think we should keep the monkey, luv?"

"Bonobo," she doesn't know why she felt the need to specify that. "And, _no_ , I don't think we should keep it. _Why_ would you want to keep it?"

He ignores her counter question and changes the subject, "So, regarding the handcuffs..."

Gillian sighs. Her coffee is cold by now. Welcome to another day at The Lightman Group.

* * *

To be continued


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N:** Here's the next installment. So glad that the fandom is still alive. Enjoy!

 **The usual disclaimer applies.**

* * *

 **2x17 Bullet Bump**

It's not unusual that someone brings the nature of their relationship into question. It has always happened, behind their backs as well as bluntly, and happens even more often these days, now that both of them are divorced. People see a man and a woman working together as closely as they do, _interacting_ the way they do, and start to wonder. So why now? Why did the comment of the sleazy campaign manager get under his skin?

 _You mean to tell me that neither of you have never been tempted to mix business with pleasure?_

They are on their way back to the office. Cal is driving; Gillian is sitting next to him, checking her mails on her cell. It should be a comfortable silence. They are used to spending countless hours together traveling; you can't always talk. Today, though, the silence doesn't feel comfortable. At least not for Cal. He glances over at Gillian. She frowns the way she does when she is focused on something, such as her mails at the moment. Cal, on the contrary, has trouble focusing on the street, the provocative remark of the campaign manager the only thing occupying his thoughts.

Cal is quick on the comeback, had one on the tip of his tongue as soon as he had heard the question about business and pleasure whereas Gillian completely ignored it and continued the conversation. It bothers him, the ease with which she behaves as if nothing happened at all. It's not the question, it's her non-reaction to it that has gotten under his skin.

 _I know what it's like to work with beautiful women. You're not just a pretty face, are you, darling?_

He has been flirting his arse off lately, trying to get a reaction from her that exceeds bland smiles. Cal knows that Gillian likes his attention, to some extent even the way he blatantly checks her out, but at the end of the day she basically condones all this. Granted, the innuendo has become their game by now, a spark amidst the routine that exists even in their intriguing field of expertise. Things have changed though; it is the first time since they met that neither of them wears a wedding band. So... mix business with pleasure? A year ago, the answer would have been an unambiguous no because Gillian was still married and that was about it. These days, things are different, but they seem to have an unspoken agreement to pretend they are not. Because otherwise? Hell yes, Cal _would_ be tempted to mix those two things and he needs to know where she stands.

"Have you?" Cal asks. If the question is even as remotely on her mind as on his, then she knows what he is talking about.

"Huh? Have I what?" Gillian is distracted, focused on her cell. So that's a no. She hasn't given thought to the question. At least not the way he has done it. When Cal mulls over whether to continue the conversation or not, Gillian senses something is wrong. She stops scrolling through her mails and looks up. "What's the matter?"

"Have you thought about stopping to have coffee? Before we get back to work. You know... to mix _business with pleasure_ ," having decided that it's not the right time to delve into this particular subject, Cal overemphasizes the words and wiggles his eyebrows as a distraction. Gillian is used to his erratic behavior so that it will cover up his original intention. Hopefully. However, he needed to say the words on the off-chance that she will react to them all the same.

His plan works. To some degree, that is. Gillian doesn't see through him although she knows something is going on, fixing her gaze on him. " _Coffee?_ Did you ask me about that earlier?" she thinks aloud. "I don't remember. And I think that guy had something else in mind when he made that remark about mixing business and pleasure...," her voice trails off. She glances over at him as Cal pretends to check the traffic to his left so that she can't see his face. Out of the corner of his eye he sees how she opens her mouth to say something else but then contains herself. He can practically hear her thoughts falling into place when she understands what just happened.

At some point Cal can't pretend to check the traffic any longer and darts a quick glance at her. Gillian's phone lies in her lap unregarded. Her posture has changed; she has straightened herself but still keeps an eye on him, waiting for him to acknowledge that he knows she knows. Cal wanted her undivided attention and now he has it. Yet, he needs several attempts before he is able to look her in the eye because it wouldn't be just that, not just business and pleasure. It's all or nothing when your business partner is also your best friend. They could lose everything. Both of them are aware of that.

It is one of those surreal moments that comes out of nowhere and can change your live. The tension when Gillian lets Cal read her is perceptible. She might not have had the question in her mind anymore when Cal started the conversation, but it has had the same effect on her as on him; she is just better at denying. Gillian has thought about mixing business with pleasure. _Bloody hell, and how_. Cal watches Gillian struggle when she forces herself to hold his gaze and not look away. She wants him to see it all. The truth and nothing but the truth. He sees longing, desire. And more. Doubt, unease. That's when he realizes she is reading him, too, because she reacts to his disappointment, reaches out and touches his arm. An apology. She's not ready. Not yet.

They just sit there in silence for a moment. Then her posture changes again. Gillian leans back and crosses her legs deliberately slowly, causing the fabric of her silk pantyhose to make a soft sound that tickles Cal's fancy. His eyes follow her moves of their own accord.

"I thought that would be what we do every day...," Gillian says, "...mix business with pleasure." Innuendo. She has led them back on familiar, firm ground. It's her way to reassure him that they are OK.

"Yeah luv, we do," Cal replies casually, only his husky voice betraying his contending feelings. "Wouldn't want it any other way."

So he gives her time and stands idly by when she falls in love with another man some weeks later. Well, not _that_ idly because he sets up a file on him. However, Cal keeps telling himself that it's OK, that Gillian needs _this_ before she can allow herself to need _him_. No one wants to be the rebound guy, anyway, but it still hurts like hell and he can only put a brave face on and pretend for so long. When he finally admits that he wants Gillian _in the worst possible way_ , Cal knows that this is no truth that will surprise her. She already knows. He makes sure, though, that she can't miss the anguish in his voice when he says it because nothing, _nothing_ even remotely feels like pleasure anymore.

* * *

To be continued


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N:** I know the subject of this chapter has been done over and over (I can practically see you rolling your eyes as you read it). But I don't see a way Cal and Gillian could have ever moved on without addressing it. So... here we go. I hope you enjoy it, anyway.

 **The usual disclaimer applies.**

* * *

 **3x6 Beyond Belief**

"So you don't think we should do anything but rather wait it out?" The anger in Ria Torres' voice is unmistakeable even if she's whispering.

"Yes. Foster and Lightman are adamant when it comes to their inner circle. They don't want us to interfere; so we keep our noses out. End of story." Loker struggles with his role in life in general and in The Lightman Group in particular these days and it is reflected in his words. He gave up his concept of radical honesty that was part of his unique charm somewhere along the way but doesn't seem to know which attribute to adapt instead. It doesn't help that he does not make any progress job-wise. To make matters worse, Lightman is in a bad mood today and treated him like his personal errand boy earlier. It is not the first time and won't be the last.

"But this is different," Torres tries again. "Lightman has _always_ been rude to _everyone_ but never to Foster. Not like that. Something is wrong."

"What if?" Loker shrugs. "It's not our obligation to fix whatever went wrong between them. Maybe he just takes his mood out on her, too, because he has finally realized that he can. It's not as if she fights back."

Torres sighs. The fact that Foster, indeed, doesn't show any indication that she intends to put up resistance bothers her even more than Lightman's behavior. Ria is loyal to both, Foster and Lightman. She won't ever forget that they offered her a chance to work for them despite her complete lack of a scientific background, being a natural or not. Torres has a personality with rough edges like Lightman. And Foster has been supporting her from the start, urging Lightman to take her along when new cases came up. It's not a competition who she likes or respects more. This is not what it is about. It's about The Lightman Group that has become Ria's second home. She needs their surrogate family to function. And if Lightman and Foster don't get along, this won't work.

"A couple of days," she states. "If nothing changes, I will do something." Torres has no idea what that _something_ will be, but that has never stopped her in the past. She will figure it out.

"Whatever." Loker's indifference is real. Right now, he is frustrated. Deep down, though, he cares about his job and the people he works with, even about his nemesis Dr. Cal Lightman. Ria knows that much.

* * *

"This has to stop," Gillian announces without preamble as she enters Cal's office. He makes a show as if she startled him out of his sleep, taking his feet off his desk and sitting up. "You weren't sleeping," she says, ignoring his efforts.

"Maybe I was," he contradicts her. Something he seems to do on a regular basis these days. "Dreaming of you."

"Yeah, sure," Gillian snorts dismissively, registering the bitterness in her voice. She hates it. The way Cal overdoes his reaction as a deflection because they have become so estranged from each other that they don't know how to interact anymore as well as the way she jumps to the worst possible conclusion whatever he does or says, unable to suppress her annoyance. There used to be a time when his words would have been the beginning of affectionate banter. _"You have been dreaming of me?" - "I always do, luv. You know that."_ But not anymore. Those days are past.

Gillian didn't sleep last night, dwelling on her dark thoughts. So much has gone wrong during the past few months. The entire time, she has been waiting for things to sort themselves out but since she overheard a discussion between Torres and Loker the day before, this is no option anymore. Now she wonders whether it is too late to change tack. Perhaps she has been waiting for too long.

 _You tell me we're OK. You know I've always had more trouble reading you than anyone else._ That's what Cal said to her after another one of his countless solo actions a couple of weeks ago. He is not clueless, knows that his behavior offends her. She wouldn't even mind because in a way he has always been like that. Actually, she likes that it is not easy to get along with him. They have always argued, but he never crossed a certain line with her in times past. It felt like a privilege to be one of the few people that he would spare when he was in a bad mood. Well, somehow she has lost that privilege.

 _The Lightman Group is build on my sweat. I don't see anyone else's name on the door._ It all started with these words. For whatever reason, Cal jumped and crossed the line that had protected her before. It pulled the rug out from under her. Gillian couldn't breathe, couldn't believe it. They were equal partners, close friends, and there he was attacking her out of the blue. But it got worse. _You mess with my finances again, you and I are through. Now, you're the language expert, you tell me: Do I mean that?_ It felt horrible to be on the receiving end of his temper. He had never talked to her like that before. Gillian didn't say anything for various reasons. On one hand, she simply couldn't, was stunned. On the other hand, she didn't want to admit how deeply he had hurt her. Cal had done it so casually that she would have felt even more at his mercy than she already was. Gillian didn't expect an apology. Cal rarely apologized, if ever. But he had other ways to show her that he was sorry, that he cared. However, not this time. And not the times that followed. Something had changed.

So when Cal asked her to tell him they were OK, there was a voice inside Gillian's head screaming _No, we're not. Don't you see that? What are you doing?._ Once again, though, she didn't say anything, bottled up her feelings and punished him with silence. And once again, he didn't seem to care that she hadn't answered. As if her silence gave him permission to continue. Maybe it did. But he can't actually assume that they are OK, now can he?

Gillian remembers another situation only a few days ago. She'd had a good day and had drunk to it. Cal joined her on the balcony later. They swayed as if they were dancing, hugged like that hadn't in months and almost kissed. It felt as if everything bad between them was erased, as if they were everything to each other again they had ever been and perhaps more. Especially when he said those words. _Thank you for cleaning up my mess, Gillian._ It wasn't an apology, but she had to take what she could get, right? And it was what she needed to carry on, to forgive and forget. When Cal affronted her the next day, though, she realized that those occasions weren't a glitch, no matter how much she wanted to believe that. They were a pattern. And he won't stop unless she makes him.

Cal studies her face. There is no way he can overlook the anger and pain. And for once, he decides not to ignore it and gets serious, "What's going on, Gill?"

 _What's going on? Really?_ Gillian takes a deep breath. "You tell me. You have been treating me as if I were your worst enemy. We have always had our fair share of arguments, but _this_... It has gotten out of control, _way_ out of control, Cal. Our staff is talking. And this is my company, too, no matter whether my name is on the door or not. It's build on _my_ knowledge, _my_ money, and _my_ _sweat_ , just like yours. People have to respect me. And they won't do it when I allow you to treat me that way. So stop."

Cal keeps a straight face. He is not used to her pushing back, Gillian realizes. He is used to her putting up with his capers. She senses that he is about to say something, and for whatever reason, the tilt of his head or twitch of his shoulder, perhaps simply because of the way he breathes, she knows that whatever he is about to say will make matters worse. He needs more time. Cal is the kind of man who never backs down. If he was a dog, he would bark _and_ bite and she just has cornered him.

Gillian raises her hand in an unambiguous gesture, "No explanations or excuses. Please. Not now." She makes a pause to let him read her so that he sees that she wants to hear him out, needs to in fact, but later albeit she doubts that he understands her reasons. Sometimes she knows him better than he knows himself. "Just promise me that you will stop."

There is a brief hesitation before Cal nods his approval, keeping his eyes glued to her.

Is this enough of a victory for today? _No, it's not,_ Gillian decides. Even if Cal will be true to his word (and she blocks out the fact that he avoided to actually say it but only nodded), this means nothing if... Gillian throws some documents on his desk.

"Here. I froze your assets again. Are we through now?" It's time for the bitter truth with the gloves off. She holds his gaze as her pulse quickens until she hears a faint buzzing in her ears. Gillian can't believe that she actually did it. It feels as if she is falling without a safety net, waiting for the impact. But that's OK. Cal used to be her safety net and she doesn't feel safe with him anymore. If she has only herself to rely on, then she needs to know. The sooner, the better.

Cal looks at the documents but doesn't touch them. He, the man who seems unable to stop moving for one second, has become completely immobile.

"No," he eventually says. "I was mad at you when I said that. Idle threat."

"You never took it back," Gillian's voice quavers; she can't help it. So far, she has represented her cause with steely determination. The more her wounded feelings surface, though, the more her determination is wavering. All she wants is to hole up and lick her wounds.

"Thought I didn't have to." Now that's a lie and he wants her to hear it, checks to make sure she did. His way of telling her that he is all too well aware he screwed up. Cal knew that she took his threat seriously back then. And she will never know if it actually was just that, an idle threat, meant to play mind games with her, or the ugly truth because he was so angry with her that he wanted to hurt her. She is his blind spot? If this is true, Cal is her black hole. There is an entire uncharted universe inside of him.

"Why? Why treat me like that, Cal? Why say this to me to begin with? Payback for something I did? For Burns? I refuse to believe that, but it's the only possible explanation I've come up with." The folder he had on Burns. Following them around. His eloquent, superior behavior as if nothing concerned him that was all fake. Only weeks before, Cal had tried to talk with her about them, basically admitted that he wanted a _them_ , and then she chose Burns. It must have been a slap in the face. The one thing Cal is really bad at is losing people he loves. And he loves her. Gillian knows that.

Cal contorts his face. Regret. Shame. Anger. But not directed at her, at himself. "No explanations, no excuses, right?" Gillian threw him a lifeline when she said that earlier. He doesn't want to tell her. Can't. At least not now.

"So are you done hurting me back?" she asks quietly. Gillian doesn't need an apology; she just needs them to be OK. Hurting her has taken a heavy toll on him. It's the first time Gillian realizes that. Cal is suffering, too. He contorts his face another time. Bull's eye. She leans over and grabs the documents. "I didn't freeze your assets."

Cal is startled. Then he pulls himself together. "I knew that."

"No. You didn't."

Gillian lingers for a moment before she turns around and walks out. She got what she came here for; they closed that inglorious chapter once and for all. Now time has to tell what that means for them.

* * *

A couple of days later, Cal overhears Gillian talking to a client, giving advise how to get through a difficult situation. Her soft voice carries through her office into the hallway. _But we push back and we hold on and we push back._

It's only then that Cal realizes the full extent of what Gillian had been doing. She held on (and he can't even begin to imagine how difficult it must have been at times, given the way he treated her), and eventually she pushed back (What if she hadn't? Where would they be now? Would they still be here together?). His thoughts make him dizzy. Cal has to support himself against the wall.

"Are you OK?" Ria has appeared out of nowhere. This seems to happen a lot lately, as if she is watching him, waiting for something. She eyes him rather warily than concerned. Something is definitely going on. Turning her head to follow his field of vision, Ria sees and hears Gillian talking to their client. She looks back at Cal, the hint of a contented smile on her face. "You're gonna be," she answers her own question before she walks on. Now what was that?

Cal has no time to think about it, though, as Gillian's voice captivates him again. _And we get help from people who really care about us. So take this step._ He feels the material of the wall. Cold. Hard. Gillian's soft voice seems to belong to another, better world. A world that is only a stone's throw away. Has been all the time.

"Wanker," he mumbles to himself, hunching his shoulders before he lets go of the wall.

* * *

To be continued


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N:** With some hours remaining before New Year's Eve celebrations start, I thought I could provide you with another installment. There is no direct reference to the episode but considering how it ended, the connection should be obvious.

The usual **disclaimer** applies.

* * *

 **3x13 Killer App**

The room is dark.

Cal can't tell whether it's day or night. Perhaps the curtains are drawn close. Save that he doesn't remember whether there are curtains. He tries to determine how late, or rather early, it was when he fell asleep but considering what happened, there is not the slightest chance in hell he will remember that either. It was an exceptional night. Spectacular, one might say.

* * *

Loker stops the car in front of a huge building. The letters on the roof compose the name of a television network. Torres raises an eyebrow. The name means money, lots of money. A potential client they have to impress. She whisks some invisible fluffs off of her pants and raises her chin. _Let's do this._

"You sure Lightman and Foster don't want to take care of this?" she asks as they get out of the car. Torres has a distinct ego. However, she would never get in the way of her bosses. Well, get in Lightman's way, that is.

"Yeah," Loker answers, pretending to fiddle with his bag. Better to keep his answer curt and his body turned away. No clues for the natural. She will get suspicious soon enough. _You have no idea what's going on_ , he thinks and has a hard time keeping the smirk off his face. Oh, how he likes to have an ace up his sleeve.

* * *

Suddenly the room is flooded with light.

Bright sunlight blinds Cal and he blinks. Once, twice, and a third time until he is sure that the silhouette of the woman standing in front of the window is no apparition. So there are curtains. And she has drawn them back. He lets his eyes wander. Although she has wrapped a blanket around her, there still is naked skin. Lots of it. A very sexy naked back.

Gillian turns around. Her beaming smile does funny things to his heart. "Did you have a good sleep?"

* * *

They are walking down a long hallway with many doors. Next to some of the doors, a red light is signaling that no one is allowed to enter because a show is being recorded inside. Other doors open and close, people walking in and out fast, talking loudly. Everyone seems to be in a hurry; the air buzzes with energy.

"So, what's the case?" Torres asks, only to be distracted when a man passes them. "Was that?" She turns around, looking after the man.

"Yup, it was." Loker recognized the famous anchor, relieved that Torres gets sidetracked. Then again, there is not much time left. Perhaps he should better tell her now. "Listen, about the case," he starts just when another door opens right in front of them.

"There you are. We have been waiting for you," a woman he has never seen before states ecstatically and pulls them inside. They have to meet a deadline after all.

* * *

"Are you hungry?"

Gillian laughs. "Is that your stomach or Freud asking?" She stretches herself luxuriously and then rolls around so that she ends up half on top of him. For a moment, Cal has forgotten the question and she laughs some more about the look on his face. Who would've thought that it's so easy to dazzle him? Then she reaches out for the phone across his chest, causing the blanket to slip away.

"This is room 1013," she says, holding her breath when Cal's hand draws lazy circles on her back first before it pays attention to lower regions. He loves her backside. Among other things. "Yes, I'm still here. I'd like to...um...order breakfast for two and...um...a bottle of your best champagne. Thank you." She hangs up and moves to slide back to her side of the bed, but Cal firmly holds her in place.

"None of that, darlin'," he murmurs, "I'm not finished yet." God, she loves his voice when it's breathy like that, when it's like that because of her.

* * *

"Wow, you look slutty," Loker's intonation is nothing less than admiring as he keeps staring at Torres. "You know, I had that dream once..."

"What is going on?" Torres interrupts him. Her voice has a dangerous undertone

For the last ten minutes, complete strangers have been touching and talking to them non-stop, applying make-up, doing their hair. Loker is surprised that Ria restrained herself and no one got hurt. So far and as long as they were surrounded by people, that is. They are alone now.

"Everything's fine," he assures her, "We're here to be interviewed about our work."

"What? Are you crazy? Lightman is going to kill us." She jumps up and is halfway out the door when Eli grabs her wrist.

"Wait. He won't."

"Oh, he will. Better believe me."

"No, look at me. He won't."

That stops her. She looks at him and frowns. "Why would Lightman let us make an interview about micro expressions? It's his firm, his science. We're just the help."

Loker flinches because of the way she states this matter-of-factly and because it's true. From Lightman's perspective at least.

The door opens and another man they've never seen before sticks his head in, "Five minutes. Please follow me." In the background they hear the intro music of the talk show. It's too late to back out without causing a stir.

Eli holds Ria's gaze. _Trust me._ She is still tense and not really convinced. It shows in her body language as well as in her face. But when he walks out the door, she follows him. Go figure.

* * *

"How are we going to tell them?" Cal asks. " _Are_ we going to tell them?"

"You worry too much. Stop worrying." Gillian takes the champagne flute out of his hand and kisses him. The bottle is empty, the bright sunlight outside has become dim. "I'm going to take a shower," she announces. "Want to have dinner out afterwards?"

The hotel has a fantastic restaurant. It comes highly recommended with a breathtaking view and a starred chef.

"Do you? We could have room service."

"Again?" Gillian has a giggle over his suggestion, patting his chest before she gets out of bed. Walking over to the bath, she gives him the eye. "Whatever you want, Cal. Whatever you want."

The door closes behind her. Cal briefly considers joining her, but the sound of the running water is soothing and the thought of Gillian taking a shower in the next room creates a domestic feel that is even better from where he is, laying in bed and inhaling her scent that is everywhere. He looks out of the window. The city is a temptation at dusk. A paradise of broken promises and lost illusions that couldn't exist anywhere else than in the middle of a desert. And yet, some unfulfilled dreams come true for a chosen few. Cal has always had a special bond with this place. It is oddly adequate that they are here.

His stomach rumbles. Breakfast and champagne weren't enough to compensate the calories they have been burning last night and all day. Cal turns on the TV. The hotel channel has an overview of the menu for room service. When the screen comes on, though, he sees Loker. Cal blinks. He must be dreaming. But when he opens his eyes again, Loker is still there. And Torres. Sitting in what looks like the setting of a talk show. Loker is talking. His mouth moves. Cal sits up and turns up the volume.

" _...The Lightman Group,"_ Loker finishes his sentence. He talks about his firm. That wanker has the nerve to sit there, smile into the camera and talk about _his firm_. There is a flash explaining to the viewer that the theme of the day is "Body language  & other revealing clues that give away what you are really thinking". What the hell?

" _So the owner of the company you two are working for, Dr. Lightman...,"_ one of the talk show hosts addresses Torres.

" _Dr. Lightman and Dr. Foster are the owners,"_ Ria sets straight. _"They are equal partners."_

" _Of course,"_ the host corrects herself. _"What can you tell me about them? It must be intriguing to work together so closely and always know when the other is lying or trying to hide something."_

" _Well..."_ Ria looks as if she wants to be anywhere but there. _"We... They invented this line..."_

" _It's not that easy,"_ Loker takes over. _"The fact that you are able to see certain things doesn't mean anything without context. In order to find out the truth, it's not enough to know someone is lying, you also need to know the reason why."_

The bloke has the nerve to quote Foster.

"Gillian," Cal shouts. He jumps out of bed, frantically searching for his phone. He has to call Loker to stop that. Or Torres. Or both. Or even better the talk show host to tell her he will sue. Cal's foot gets caught in Gillian's bra and he almost trips as he makes out his pants on the floor. He obviously lost them somewhere between entrance and bed last night. There is a bulge in his pants. Most likely his cell. Still, what's with the symbolism? Cal picks his pants up and finds his phone in one of the pockets. "Gillian," even louder this time.

"What is it?" The bathroom door opens.

"Look!" Cal points with one hand at the TV, his other hand scrolling through the directory of his cell.

It's not a commonplace sight. A stark-naked, angry Cal. Gillian can't decide whether it's fascinating or funny. Ultimately both. She wraps a towel around her, not bothering to wipe herself dry, her feet leaving wet footprints on the carpet as she walks over to him. When she sees the source of his anger, she freezes.

"He is talking about my firm," Cal whines.

"Our firm," Gillian corrects him absent-mindedly. She can't believe what she is seeing.

"Huh?" Cal glances over at her. "Oh, yeah, yeah, our firm. 'Course, darlin'." He tilts his head back. "Doesn't want to be there, that one." He points at Torres. "That one does." Loker.

" _Dr. Lightman and Dr. Foster are_ _excellent scientists and superiors. Especially Dr. Lightman has been a great mentor for me ever since I joined The Lightman Group,"_ Loker just says. The smirk in his face is invisible. Cal and Gillian see and hear it, anyway.

"I'm going to kill him," Cal mumbles. He has found Loker's number and presses dial.

"Cal, calm down." Gillian takes the phone out of his hands and ends the call.

"Oi! What'cha doin'?"

"There was a last minute request for an interview yesterday," Gillian explains. "We were almost on our way to the airport when I got the call. So I asked Loker."

"You... _What?_ "

"They said they had some questions about our science. A quick interview. No more than five minutes. It's a well-know television network. I thought it would be good PR. For us. For the firm. I didn't know it would air today. I assumed they would show us the screening in advance so that we could approve it. Otherwise I would have told you."

" _As to their relationship, Dr. Lightman and Dr. Foster are very close,"_ Loker's voice continues to fill the room. The talk show hosts lean forward interested. This is the kind of information that boosts ratings. Torres looks as if she is about to strangle Loker with her bare hands, or have a stroke, or both.

"So you're saying you're OK with _that_?"

Gillian takes a deep breath, screwing up her face, "Not really." She takes a closer look at Loker's appearance. "What have they done to his hair?"

A jingle announces the end of the show and Gillian and Cal sigh relieved in unison.

"Still gonna kill him," Cal states as he catches something in Loker's face. The show is still on air. Cal frowns, "What exactly did you tell him?"

"That we were going to Vegas. That we had an appointment there that couldn't wait." Gillian looks back and forth between Cal's face and the screen. "Loker..." She shakes her head in disbelief. Oh no, please no. How could she not have noticed? "He was joking, asking me if we were flying to Vegas to get married, but I said no. _I said no_ ," she repeats as she sees Cal's bewildered expression.

"Never crossed your mind that we've been training Loker for years? That he might see or hear you're lying?"

Actually, it hadn't. Gillian has been Cal's blind spot for so long that she's used to getting away with everything. Let alone that other things occupied her mind yesterday. She was distracted, imbued with pleasant anticipation.

" _Well, I guess we can make it just as well official,"_ Loker won't shut up. Can't somebody turn off the mics? Anybody? Cal knows what is coming next before he hears the words broadcasted nationally. _"Happy Honeymoon."_ Eli waves into the camera as the credits start to roll and they see and hear Torres shout, _"What?"_.

Cal looks at Gillian, "That was..."

"...awkward," she acknowledges.

They stand next to each other in silence, staring at the TV screen until the commercial break interrupts their trance.

"All right then." Cal shakes off his anger. Stranger things have happened. Albeit not many. "Guess we don't need to tell them anymore." Only now, he takes Gillian's appearance in. Her wet hair and the towel that barely covers her skin. Well, that and her shocked expression. "You worry too much. Stop worrying, luv."

His words are buoyant, their meaning isn't. Something happens in her face when she watches him and reads his expression. Something he has never seen before. At least not that undisguised. It's funny. Here they are, knowing each other since forever, and yet, everything's new.

Cal pulls at the towel so that it slips away and falls on the floor. "Happy honeymoon, luv."

* * *

To be continued

Happy New Year!


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N:** We are now in the middle of a virtual Season Four that, unfortunately, never took place on screen. Timeline-wise I needed Cal and Gillian to be together for a while before this could happen. Unlike the earlier chapter, this is angst. Pure and simple. Enjoy!

One more thing: I don't know whether you noticed or not, but FFN seems to have problems with reviews currently. You can't look at the reviews there. The good news is that I got the email alerts with your reviews. So, since I couldn't just klick reply and say thanks, let me do it here: _StreakyStarr, Millibear, Artemis-Athene, stevieLUVSAlex and Roadrunnerz._ Thanks a lot for reviewing the last chapter! It's very appreciated. As always, I'm surprised but happy that there are still people reading LTM/Callian and that the fandom is still alive.

 **The usual disclaimer applies.** As it always will.

* * *

 **4x5 Negotiation Tactics**

He senses that she is there before he actually sees her. His subconsciousness registers all the little things that disclose her presence. His jacket at the wardrobe (it has a life of its own, falling on the floor six times out of ten, oh well, make that nine times, but amazingly enough it never happens to her), the rug he tends to stumble over every day so that it always is slightly ruffled unless she smoothens it, a whiff of the perfume that surrounds her and hangs in the air even after a long workday like today.

Gillian is standing in the kitchen, a glass of red wine in front of her on the countertop. She has turned on a few lights only, but the way she has positioned herself ensures that he is able to see her face. And what Cal spots, he has never seen before. At least not to this extent. The wine in the glass swirls when she picks it up with a trembling hand to take a sip.

Cal approaches her. There is no empty glass waiting to be filled so that he can join her. This is not supposed to be a friendly talk.

"Just say it, luv."

If possible, her delicate features harden even more. She thinks she shouldn't have to say it because he already knows. And he does. For a split second, guilt gains the upper hand. Cal breaks off eye contact. He fiddles around with his keys, then deposits them on the countertop before he looks up again, holding her gaze this time.

* * *

" _Turn on the TV!" Torres barges into Gillian's office, already searching for the remote. She changes the channels until she finds a newscast. Police cars in front of a shop; emergency lights switched on. The usual mayhem after something terrible happened, but all Gillian sees is the man walking out of the shop with a bruise on his cheek. Then the flash catches her attention. 'Well-known lie expert defuses hostage situation.' She cringes at the term 'lie expert' while, really, this is the least of her problems._

 _Because she listens to the anchor in the studio describing what she assumed the moment she saw that scenario. There was a hostage situation going on. The lie-expert ('Dr. Cal Lightman', she reads, his name displayed on the screen) walked by at that very instant and went into the shop without further ado to negotiate with the captor before the police could stop him. The usual coverage continues. 'Would you do something like that in a similar situation?' He is an everyday hero. It's not even about their science. It's about a man who saved the day. The captor was armed. There could have been casualties but due to Dr. Lightman's intervention, the man surrendered and everyone came out alive._

 _Gillian becomes aware that Loker also is in her office. She didn't notice him come in. Both, he and Torres, are darting concerned glances at her. Cal could have been killed. Situations like these have always strained them, their relationship as well as working together but now... Gillian swallows. There is not enough air in her office to breathe. She can't stand the pity in Torres' and Loker's eyes. She hates that she can't pull herself together. But most of all it chokes her that Cal did this. Just like that. Like always._

 _She takes her bag, leaves her coat, ignores Torres' offer to drive her and Loker's outstretched hand trying to hold her back. There is only one thought on her mind._

 _How could you?_

* * *

"I saw him through the shop window," Cal explains. "He had no intention to kill anyone. But he had a gun and he wouldn't answer the phone. It kept ringing inside. I could hear it." He points at his ear, reliving the memory. "The police, they were about to go in, and he would have been shot. More people, _innocent people_ , could have been hurt. You never know what happens once bullets start flying around." Cal screws up his face.

"So you decided it's better to let yourself get killed than him?" If she holds her rage in check any longer, she will suffocate.

"He was just a kid. Emily's age." He couldn't walk away, couldn't stand idly by.

152 days. That's how long they have made it without Cal volunteering to throw himself into a dangerous situation no matter what the cost. Gillian is not superstitious, but part of her hoped that marrying in Vegas had broken the spell. If Cal did something so pure and full of hope in a city that only had brought out the worst in him before, perhaps it would change him. Then again, Cal loves his daughter more than anything and even the tangible risk that Emily could lose her father never has stopped him. So why should it be different now? Plain and simple because...

"I'm your _wife_ , Cal. Shouldn't it count for something?" In the end it all comes down to this. She loves him and his reckless behavior hurts her, always has. He knows that.

"Oh, it does, luv. Forever and all that. Wish I could do one thing without the other, without hurting you." Cal screws up his face some more. Remorse. "But you knew who I was when you married me."

She gasps. "So now it's my fault that I can't handle it?" It is her Achilles' heel. Gillian doesn't doubt that Cal is faithful to her. His former affairs, flings, whatever you might call them, she doesn't feel threatened by them. Not anymore. This, however, this is his one true love that he chooses over her every single time. Danger. The adrenaline rush that comes from putting his life at risk for a good cause.

Cal tilts his head back and pushes himself away from the countertop right into her personal space. "Your father was a drunk and you hated him for it but still loved him. Your ex-husband was an addict, but you married him in spite of that."

Gillian's eyes are ablaze with disbelief. "Don't..."

"Burns was an undercover agent."

"I didn't know that at the beginning."

"Sure. Didn't feel a thing that was off about him. Didn't see it, didn't hear it." He takes one more step forward. "Interesting how we see everything, and yet, turn a blind eye to the flaws of the ones close to us, yeah?"

Gillian wants to take another sip of wine, but her hands are trembling so badly by now that she can't hold the glass properly anymore. "I dated other men, _normal_ men," she says shakily, aware how ridiculous it sounds once the words are out.

"Didn't love them," Cal's voice is quiet, tender even. A sharp contrast to the uncomfortable truth his words deliver. "No other woman would've stayed with me as long as you did. You _never_ gave up, took all the blows. I wish I were a better man but _you_ , you chose me for what I am. So don't chide me for something that made you fall in love with me in the first place."

"I need reliability," Gillian says in a strained voice.

"Don't think my love for you is reliable?"

The answer is written across her face that is red with embarrassment, anger, and pain. Of course, she knows that.

"I love you, but I'm not only that. Not only the husband who loves his wife, not only the father who loves his daughter. I can't be who I'm not. I tried that for Emily. Didn't work."

She didn't know that. His words cut deep. The truth always does. She should have known Cal wouldn't comfort her with a lie, wouldn't give her a promise he has no intention to keep. She should probably be grateful for his honesty, no matter how hard to take it is, but all Gillian feels is the burden of inevitability and the threat of impending loss. When he reaches out to touch her face, she steps back.

"Leave me alone."

* * *

The days when Cal would go to a bar after a fight and drink himself into oblivion are long gone. At least that part of reliability he is able to offer. _Leave me alone._ Cal gives Gillian time and space to let things sink in. There is nothing else he can do. He reads in his study before he goes to sleep.

Cal wakes up when Gillian gets to bed. The darkness and silence outside tell him that it must be in the dead of night. He rolls over sleepily, letting her know he is awake but making no move to touch her or talk to her otherwise. Cal is surprised when he feels her lips against his. She tastes of wine.

Their kiss gets more intense. Gillian pulls him on top of her and reaches for his pajama pants. Aside from the one or other exception, make-up sex is not their usual style. But what else is there to say? No explanations or excuses will change who he is. Sometimes this is the only way to reconcile.

With his pajama pants gone and things proceeding much faster than they normally would, Cal wants to make sure that she is ready before they take it any further. Gillian pushes his hand away though.

"No," her voice is a whisper, her breath caressing his face in the dark. He would give everything to see the expression in her eyes.

Gillian is not ready, at least not as much as he would prefer. By now he knows, though, that she sometimes likes it that way. She told him that it's even more intense. So Cal meets her desire, moving slowly as he balances them on the fine line between pleasure and pain and listens to the way her breathing changes until she arches up under him.

Afterwards he holds her, her head on his chest, sleep catching up with both of them fast.

"Just don't get killed."

Cal is not sure whether Gillian actually said it or not. Perhaps he dreamt it. It's not his intention either way. There is too much that is worth living for.

* * *

When Cal wakes up the next morning, he hears Gillian in the kitchen. She has made herself coffee, one of these sugared foam monsters. As he joins her downstairs, she hands him his tea; hereby telling him that they are fine. The way Gillian looks at him is different though, as if she has never seen him before. But maybe that is because she only now sees herself.

"You were right," she says. "Back then when you told me that I am not the good girl." _Liar_ , she remembers her response although it was intuitive and not based on something she had seen in his face. "Truth or happiness, never both," she cites one of his favorite quotes. "You were right then, too. At least sort of."

Cal puts his tea away and closes the gap between them, reaching for her. "Don't do that. Don't stop being mad at me or hurt whenever I do stupid things. Don't stop... _being you_. Now, I know that's a lot to ask, I mean, being with _me_ and all that. But can you do it? For me?" He watches her like a drowning man.

Gillian doesn't know what Cal once told another captor that held a gun to his head. About a pure soul he doesn't want to drag into his world. That he will fight like hell to keep her the way she is even if it is getting more and more difficult the longer they are together. But she sees _him_ albeit her vision gets a bit blurry when he enfolds her in his arms. Their hugs have always been the best. Some things never change.

"I can do that," she mumbles against his neck. "For both of us."

So maybe there are no absolut truths. Maybe one moment truth and happiness can coexist even though the next they cannot. Life is a succession of trivialities after all. And nothing could be more important.

* * *

The End (?)

 _At this point, I'm not sure whether there will be more chapters or not because my muse has run out of ideas. At least for now. The advantage of this story concept being that I can always add more chapters in the future whenever my muse strikes again. So we'll see what happens._


End file.
